<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Attachments by little0bird</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814168">Attachments</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/little0bird/pseuds/little0bird'>little0bird</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Episode: s02e12 The Mandalore Plot, Episode: s02e13 Voyage of Temptation, Episode: s02e14 Duchess of Mandalore, F/M, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Korkie Kryze is a Kenobi, Past Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Post-Episode: s02e14 Duchess of Mandalore, Post-Episode: s05e16 The Lawless</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:28:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,038</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/little0bird/pseuds/little0bird</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A few missing scenes with Obi-wan and Satine.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Walking Away With My Heart and My Soul</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started with a kiss.</p><p>She tutted over the straggly state of his Padawan braid. He hadn't mastered the knack of braiding it properly, and the longer it got, the more bedraggled it appeared. It shamed him, because his appearance reflected poorly on his master. But Satine deftly and neatly braided it one afternoon, weaving in bright blue threads that shimmered against his auburn hair. Once she bound the end, she twined the braid through her fingers and pulled his mouth down to hers. Obi-wan would have liked to say that they didn't fall into bed straightaway, but his resistance crumbled the second she guided his hand to her breast a few weeks later. It might have shocked anyone outside the Order that he readily consented to a sexual relationship. The Jedi code only forbade emotional attachments and didn't insist on celibacy, though it had often been interpreted so. He knew quite well how the human body functioned. There had been the agonizingly awkward and uncomfortable conversation with Qui-gon when he first became a Padawan. And well… the HoloNet held every kind of information one could ask for, and Padawans were notorious for passing luridly explicit holobooks around their dormitories. And Satine wasn't shy about telling him what pleased her and what did not. Even if she hadn’t said a word, he didn’t need the Force to guide him. He paid attention to what made her breath hitch and stutter, what made her set her teeth in her lower lip, what made her back arch while her fingers clutched at his hair and her lips soundlessly formed his name. Not Obi-wan, but <em>Ben</em>, the name she used when they were alone.</p><p>Their first time had lasted approximately thirty seconds. Over before it had truly begun. He’d been somewhat embarrassed, but she hadn’t let him wallow in it. Like everything, he got better with practice. Most of the time they shared a single room with Qui-gon, and their furtive couplings were completed in haste during the hour or two Qui-gon preferred to meditate alone, outside whatever dwelling they’d managed to find. On the rare occasions they managed to find shelter with two rooms, Qui-gon claimed the smaller of the two, citing the need to meditate in peace, leaving Obi-wan and Satine to the larger one. It was an unearned gift of time and space. The absence of their clothes sent his senses reeling. How he’d revelled in the feel of her skin against his. The way she murmured ‘Ben,’ against his mouth.</p><p>He told himself Qui-gon didn’t know it had progressed as far as it did, or at least merely suspected. The only thing he’d ever said in that habitually kind and mild tone of his after they meditated together one morning was, <em>These feelings you have... they are normal and expected. Natural, even. Jedi aren’t forbidden to have feelings, my very young Padawan. It’s only that we aren’t to be controlled by them. No attachments, Obi-wan. </em></p><p><em>Yes, Master. No attachments</em>, he dutifully repeated, but he hadn’t been fully aware of just what that meant until the day he had to choose between his love for Satine and his duty to the Order. He would never say the Order won. It was never a battle for his affections and loyalty. His love for Satine was tempered by his knowledge of the centuries of antagonism between the Jedi and the Mandalorians and the realization of what it would mean for them both if he asked to stay. So he didn’t.</p><p>He parked the nondescript speeder on the building's landing pad and made his way through the back corridors, where he wouldn't be seen, to her apartment.</p><p>Her guards were pleasant enough fellows who knew him, but still, he took the precaution of <em>insisting</em> that Satine had asked to see him.</p><p>‘Master Kenobi.’ Satine had the wherewithal to react with aplomb at his unannounced appearance. ‘You’re late.’</p><p>He bowed slightly, hands tucked inside the sleeves of his robes. ‘Duchess. I thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice.’ Satine stepped to the side to let him into the apartment. ‘May I commend you for your inspired thinking last night?’</p><p>‘You would have thought of it,’ she replied. ‘Eventually.’</p><p>Obi-wan keyed in the lock code that only Satine could override with a retinal scan with a rueful grin. ‘It looks as though someone’s recovered their wits.’</p><p>‘I merely found the ones you lost.’ Satine gazed at the door panel with clear consternation. ‘How did you know my keycode?’</p><p>Obi-wan reached up and brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. ‘<em>Cin'ciri sarad. </em>The flower you wear in your hair. It was embroidered on the tunic you wore when we first went into hiding.’ His grin turned smug. ‘It’s the first word I learned when you taught me Mando’a to pass the time,’ he added in perfect Mando’a. His hand moved to the dark cerulean tunic she wore, and he traced the outline of the tiny flower stitched on the button at the collar. ‘I made an educated guess.’</p><p>Satine rolled her eyes and moved toward a table that held a decanter and a couple of 'Would you care for a drink, Obi-wan?' she asked, pouring a pale green liquid into two delicate crystal glasses shaped like nova lily blossoms.</p><p>‘Yes, thank you.’</p><p>She handed one to him and strolled to the terrace. 'To what do I owe the honor of his unexpected visit?'</p><p>He palmed the controls for the screens around the terrace. They could look out, but nobody could see them. Only when he saw the tell-tale shimmer of the screen did he join her. He sipped the tart wine, and set the glass on a small table. His arms slid around her waist, molding his chest to her back, lips brushing over the outer edge of her exposed ear. 'Ben. You used to call me Ben,' he murmured, 'when we were alone.'</p><p>'I used to do a lot of things when we were alone,' she quipped. She turned to face him. 'Why are you here?'</p><p>'You've had an eventful few days. I wanted to see how you were.'</p><p>'As a friend?' she retorted tartly as she moved away from him. It had stung far more than she wanted to admit. Every time Obi-wan used that blasted word, she wanted to kick him in the shins. Hard. Preferably while wearing pointy-toed shoes. She knew just the pair. They pinched her feet dreadfully, but it would be worth it.</p><p>'Of course as a friend,' Obi-wan muttered, retrieving his glass and downing the contents in a single gulp. <em>No attachments.</em> 'Because we <em>are</em> friends, aren't we? After everything we've been through?'</p><p>'You don't need to continue reminding me.' She rubbed her temples while she stalked back inside, on the verge of demanding that he leave before she said something truly waspish.</p><p>'It isn't you that needs reminding,' Obi-wan admitted, breaking into her thoughts. <em>No attachments</em>, he said to himself in a silent mantra. He'd never admitted to anyone how he truly felt about her. And to have Anakin of all people overhear it. He'd never hear the end of it. <em>No attachments</em>. He drew in a deep breath, then followed her into the apartment. He shrugged off his robe and folded it over the back of a chair, then unhooked his lightsaber from his belt. He laid it on a table, feeing oddly naked and vulnerable without it. He turned to face her. 'Despite Jedi admonishments not to dwell in the past, recently my thoughts have invariably turned to the choices I made.' He unbuckled his belt and laid it over the chair with his robe, then slipped the tabard over his head. The overtunic followed. After he shed the final layers that marked him as a Jedi, Obi-wan stepped closer. 'I never questioned them.' His hand rose and he traced the lines of her face. He lowered his mouth to hers. <em>Until now</em>.</p><hr/><p>Satine drowsed in Obi-wan's arms, her head resting on his shoulder. The room was dimly illuminated with the ambient light from Coruscant. They had rediscovered half-forgotten paths that had been trod by their hands and mouths two decades before. She even had second thoughts about his beard. It did hide his far-too-handsome-for-his-own-good face, but the brush of it over her thighs made her shiver and tighten her grip on the sheets beneath her. One hand trailed languidly down Obi-wan's arm, tracing the hard, wiry muscles honed by years of Jedi training. It made her chuckle softly, as the typical Mandalorian preconception of Jedi as soft and physically weak specimens came to mind. There were aspects of Obi-wan that were soft, like the hand toying with the ends of her hair. And others… Her wandering hand skated over his hip. Others were not soft at all.</p><p>Obi-wan's hand circled her wrist. 'I don't bounce back like I used to,' he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. 'Not like when we were sixteen.'</p><p>Satine did giggle then, and ran her fingers through his beard. 'Ah, but my dear Ben… you more than make up for it in other ways.'</p><p>Obi-wan nudged the small gold locket, engraved with her family's crest that hung from a delicate gold chain. It was no bigger than his thumbnail and only a few millimeters thick. 'What's this?'</p><p>Satine released the catch to reveal a portrait of a boy in his late teens. ‘This is Korkie,’ she murmured. ‘As far as the world knows, he’s my nephew. The child of my older brother, who died in the waning days of the war, and his wife who died giving birth to him…'</p><p>‘But you don’t have a brother,’ Obi-wan interjected.</p><p>‘So many records were destroyed, that it’s impossible to prove I did not.’ Satine ran a fingertip around the edge of the locket. ‘And if you pay the right people, they can produce enough fragments of information to create one out of thin air.’</p><p>Obi-wan studied Korkie’s face. He had Satine’s nose, mouth, and her stubborn, pointed chin. ‘He’s your son.’ He was flooded with a wave of sentiment from Satine. Obi-wan felt the truth of it. He would have known it was true even without the Force. Satine had never lied to him before. There was no point in starting now. Obi-wan frowned a little. 'No…' he breathed with a dawning realization. 'He's <em>our</em> son…' Satine let out a shuddering breath and nodded once. ‘When...?’ His heart thudded in his chest. She hadn’t been pregnant when he left Mandalore with Qui-gon. He would have known, wouldn’t he?</p><p>‘Just before you departed Mandalore. The night before,’ she added, with an upraised brow.</p><p>Obi-wan’s eyes widened. He remembered that night with vivid clarity. Her bedroom in the palace after the ceremony that made her the leader of Mandalore. They’d laughed over the novelty of making love in a bed large enough to accommodate at least four people. A bed with silken sheets and a soft mattress. They made love with the intensity and desperation of two people who knew they might never see one another again. Neither had been willing to sleep, so they fought against the tide of it until dawn began to lighten the sky, and Obi-wan slipped from her bed and gathered his clothes. Qui-gon mercifully said nothing when he arrived back in their assigned quarters, the scent of Satine clinging to his body. They bid farewell to the young duchess a few hours later, and returned to Coruscant and their next missions.</p><p>And Obi-wan never heard directly from Satine again.</p><p>He eased the locket from her grasp and examined it closer, looking for the parts of himself in the boy. He had the grey-blue eyes and auburn hair that Obi-wan saw every time he looked in a mirror. Even the way his hair fell across his forehead. 'Why didn't you tell me?'</p><p>Satine closed the locket and settled back against the warmth of Obi-wan’s chest. She laced their fingers together. 'You said on the <em>Coronet</em> you would have left the Order if I asked…'</p><p>'In a heartbeat.'</p><p>The hand wound around his trembled for a brief moment. 'Mandalore would not have accepted a former Jedi as my consort. As well you know. Or even the idea that my son's father was a Jedi. It was safer to let everyone believe he's my nephew. Safer for Korkie, for you.' Satine sighed. ‘For me. Openly admitting a Jedi Padawan fathered my child would have plunged us back into civil war. I would have been viewed as even more of a traitor to the ways of Mandalore than I already was.’ She drew back a little. 'Nor could I ask you to leave behind the only life you've ever known for a life where you would be met with little more than scorn.'</p><p>Obi-wan's heart twisted at the burdens she'd taken upon herself, but he knew she was right. He brought her hand to his mouth. ‘I...’ An apology was insufficient. Some had said his greatest strength was his sense of empathy. He didn’t plunder her thoughts and memories. That was a distasteful practice he only used when absolutely necessary. But knowing what he was, she freely offered them. Her resolve to bring their child into the world, with only a single medical droid to assist with the birth. One whose memory she wiped without a single twinge of guilt. The fears she wouldn’t love Korkie for himself because he would be an ever-present reminder of him. Fears that vanished the second the medical droid lay the squalling infant in her arms. The vow she made to do anything and everything to protect her - <em>their - </em>son. Even if it meant hiding him in plain sight.</p><p>'It was better this way,' she murmured.</p><p>‘Tell me about him...?’</p><p>Satine gazed at the ceiling, ransacking her memories for one that exemplified Korkie the best. She grinned at the memory of the boy's pleased, mischievous smirk. ‘When Korkie was... oh... five years old, he climbed to the rafters in the throne room and fell asleep on one of the beams. Everyone panicked. Including me. He refused to come down, and it took six guards to pry him off the rafter. He was very proud of himself.' Obi-wan laughed, easily picturing the scene. Satine's pride and joy in Korkie shone through. 'He’s always been a bit fearless. Brave. Determined.’ She gave Obi-wan a sidelong glance. ‘Stubborn.’ Satine’s fingers brushed over the locket. ‘Intelligent. Kind. He always wants to do the right thing.’</p><p>Obi-wan tilted her chin back to kiss her. ‘Like his mother.’</p><p>‘Like his father.’</p><p>‘Is he...’ Obi-wan shifted restlessly. He wasn't aware that any of Seekers had gone to Mandalore, not even incognito. It was possible that someone had, and Satine refused to let them take Korkie. It did happen from time to time. ‘Like me in other ways...?’</p><p>‘He isn’t Force-sensitive,’ Satine told him. Obi-wan felt an absurd surge of relief. He should have wanted his son to follow in his footsteps and become a Jedi, but he'd seen too many lives snuffed out on the field of battle to ever desire his son to come near one. 'Ben…?' Satine rolled over and propped her chin on his chest. 'Does that disappoint you?'</p><p>'No.' It made him grateful for her commitment to pacifism. If she could keep Mandalore out of the war, then she and Korkie would be safe. Well… <em>safer</em>. 'Perhaps someday I could meet him.'</p><p>'He would like that.' Satine smiled fondly. 'He has great ambitions to heal the rift between the Jedi and Mandalore.'</p><p>'I wish…' Obi-wan began wistfully, but stopped himself and shook his head. <em>Don't dwell on the past</em>, he reprimanded himself firmly. 'I'm sorry I wasn't…'</p><p>'You have nothing to apologize for. I didn't give you the choice,' Satine interrupted. 'When you think of Korkie, just remember, he is the best of both of us.'</p><hr/><p>They watched the sky brighten with the coming dawn. 'I should go,' he said quietly.</p><p>'Back to reality,' Satine murmured.</p><p>'It has such a nasty habit of intruding on our illusions.' He swung his feet to the floor and pushed himself to his feet. He searched for his undershorts and pulled them on, then his trousers. Satine slipped a shimmersilk robe over her arms and scooped his undertunic from the floor. She held it up for him and fastened the ties that held it closed. Before he could protest, she did the same with his overtunic, tabard, and belt. Each layer of clothing felt like another wall between them, creating the distance they both needed to do their duties. Ben slowly disappeared to be replaced by Obi-wan. He picked up the brown robe and settled its billowing length over his shoulders.</p><p>Satine finger-combed his hair into something resembling his usual tidiness. 'You'll come to see me off?'</p><p>'Of course.' Obi-wan pulled her close and threaded his hands through her hair. <em>One more kiss</em>, he promised himself. <em>Just one</em>. A foolhardy thought. One was never enough. He broke it with evident reluctance and plucked his lightsaber from the table and attached it to his belt. The transformation was complete. 'You'll have to let me out, I'm afraid,' he told her, gesturing toward the door.</p><p>'Are you planning to…' She waved a hand in the air. 'To my guards?'</p><p>'If we want to avoid questions, I must.' He took a step toward the door.</p><p>'Ben, wait…' She undid the clasp of the chain and then fastened it around Obi-wan's neck. Satine slipped the locket unto the high neck of his undertunic. The thin locket was undetectable to the naked eye under the layers of his robes, overtunic, tabard and undertunic. She lay a hand over it. 'I know you don't put a great deal of stock in material things, and attachments are…' She bit her lip, let out a slow breath and walked to the door panel, and submitted to a retina scan. A soft beep indicated it was now unlocked.</p><p>Obi-Wan adjusted his undertunic to ensure the chain was completely concealed. 'Never doubt that I love you, Satine. No matter what happens.' He gave her one last, lingering kiss, then slipped out of the apartment.</p><hr/><p>Obi-wan returned to the Temple and stole through the corridors until he came to his quarters. He slowly undressed in the pale light of the sunrise, and stepped into the shower cubicle of his small 'fresher. He normally used the sonic option, because it was quicker and more efficient, but he chose water this morning. He stood, hands braced on the tiled wall, head bowed. The water flowed over him, rinsing away the scent of her, but not his memories.</p><p>Nothing ever could.</p><p>No amount of meditation, self-admonishments to eschew attachments, time, or distance had been able to make him forget. He touched the locket where it rested in the middle of his chest. He ought to remove it. Jedi weren't forbidden possessions, although one would never guess that by the state of his living quarters. His quarters were a reflection of his views of himself as a Jedi. Where Qui-gon's contained bits and pieces of his journeys across the galaxy and Anakin's had pieces of machinery in various states of disrepair scattered over every horizontal surface and walls plastered with podracing posters; his were spare, unadored, and uncluttered. The locket itself wasn't an issue, it was what it represented.</p><p>Satine.</p><p>Korkie.</p><p>He could hear Anakin's sardonic voice saying, <em>Y'know, Master, that's what we like to call… Attachments. </em></p><p><em>You love them, Obi-wan</em>.</p><p>Obi-wan looked wildly around the shower cubicle, flinging his wet hair from his eyes. He hadn't heard that resonant, matter-of-fact voice in more than a decade. 'Master?' He was hearing things. Qui-gon was long dead, and Obi-wan was alone. Surely it was his mind playing tricks on him. He was exhausted and in dire need of rest and meditation.</p><p>
  <em>You love them, just as you love Anakin. Remember, my apprentice, your feelings are not the issue. It's that you mustn't be controlled by them. Do not allow your feelings to rule your decisions. Don't let them lead you to make a hasty decision you will come to regret.</em>
</p><p>Clearly it was only his conscience reminding him of his duties as a Jedi. Nothing more. Still, Obi-wan's eyes closed as he murmured, 'Yes, Master…'</p><hr/><p>Obi-wan vaulted out of the speeder and walked to the ramp of Satine's ship. 'Duchess,' he called, as if he hadn't left her bed mere hours earlier.</p><p>She turned. 'Master Kenobi.'</p><p>'I trust we might meet again on a more fortuitous occasion?'</p><p>'A more tranquil one, I hope. I barely survived this one.'</p><p>Anakin snickered behind them. Obi-wan shot him a look of thinly veiled pique, but Anakin only smirked back at him. Obi-wan sighed and returned his attention to Satine. 'Good-bye, Satine.' He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it. He flattened his other hand over the imperceptible outline of the locket and gave her hand a squeeze. She smiled and inclined her head a little.</p><p>'Good-bye, Obi-wan.' Her fingers tightened briefly around his, then she released his hand, and strode up the ramp into her ship.</p><p>Anakin moved to stand next to him. 'Your girlfriend's something else.'</p><p>'She's not my…' Obi-wan began with a huff. He relented under Anakin's knowing glance. 'Yes. Yes, she is.'</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Passing Through Nature to Eternity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>‘Someone from Mandalore managed to send a message to the Council. They told us what happened to Satine...’. He gulped, but plowed ahead. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Master...’ The look Obi-wan gave him clearly said otherwise. Not only had the Sith spent years and months planning their nefarious schemes, they were flexible enough to change course when the pieces of the game took another path. Here he was, a man grown — a Jedi Master, no less — and he'd taken Maul's bait. Had he waited, had he planned a rescue, things might be different. No, it was all his fault. The joints of Anakin’s mechanical hand whirred softly as he clenched his fingers. 'It gets better,' Anakin said softly. 'Some days it barely aches at all. Some days it's like it happened yesterday. Never goes in a straight line. But it won't always feel like this…' He made a wide gesture with his hands. 'Gaping hole inside you.'</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Obi-wan kept to the back passages of the Temple, where his chances of meeting another person were quite low. Luckily night had fallen hours ago, and Padawans were in their dormitories. Few Jedi even lived in the Temple full time these days, so the passageways were largely deserted at this time of night. He drifted, still wrapped in the cocoon of numbness that settled over him as he left Sundari and stayed even as he entered hyperspace to return to Coruscant. He'd spent most of the journey from Mandalore staring out the viewport at the blue-white ripple of hyperspace, unaware of the passage of time. So much so that it startled him when his shuttle jolted as it entered the Coruscanti atmosphere. He dreaded the inevitable meeting with Yoda or Mace, and pondered the options they could use to chastise him for disobeying direct orders. Obi-wan Kenobi didn’t make rash decisions. Obi-wan Kenobi didn’t let his emotions dictate his actions. Frankly, that was something Anakin did, much to Obi-wan’s dismay.</p><p>And Satine was dead because he allowed his feelings for her to influence him.</p><p>The floor tilted to one side, and Obi-wan scrabbled for the wall to keep himself upright.</p><p>He only had to remain standing for a few more minutes. His quarters were just down the corridor. They were his haven and an oasis of peace during this unsettled time. Obi-wan couldn't help but wonder if they would continue to be so. He pressed his thumb to the control panel to unlock the door and went inside, half expecting to find Yoda on one of the circular cushioned platforms they used for meditation, but his small apartment was blessedly empty, illuminated by the glowing lights of the city.</p><p>His quarters were devoid of the personal touches that littered the others’, save for a plain wooden box on a shelf. He flipped back the lid, fingers grazing over the coil of his severed Padawan braid, the bright threads Satine had first woven into it faded with time. The threads he kept as a remembrance of her. Her locket lay next to it. Obi-wan picked it up and fastened it around his neck, then opened it. Korkie gazed up at him from one side, and the other held a drawing Obi-wan had done of Satine late one night when he couldn’t sleep. He was by no means a professional, but reasonably skilled at drawing. His heart clenched, and Obi-wan shut the locket.</p><p>He shed his clothes as he walked toward the ‘fresher, leaving them in an uncharacteristic trail in his wake. He stepped into the shower cubicle and turned on the water, staring at the pale jade coloured tiles in front of him until his hands shrivelled. His knees buckled and Obi-wan slid to the floor. One hand closed around the locket. A shudder ran through him, and his stomach heaved. Korkie had disappeared in the aftermath of their aborted escape attempt. He wasn't with Bo-Katan's dissidents. It was possible he was dead as well. He couldn’t discern his son in the swirl of death and subsequent turbulence in the Force.</p><p>Perhaps this was his punishment for being a less than perfect Jedi.</p><p>He hauled himself to his feet, switched off the flow of water, and grabbed a towel. He haphazardly dried himself and dropped the towel on the floor. As much as Obi-wan wanted to crawl into his bed and escape into dreams and slumber — just this once — he put on a fresh set of clothes, hoping the ritual of donning the layers of Jedi garb would settle his feelings, but they still seethed under the surface.</p><p><em>Master Yoda would advise you to meditate. Control your feelings so they don't control you. Very well…</em> His bare feet padded soundlessly on the polished wooden floor that still held a whisper of the day's warmth. Obi-wan slid onto one of the meditation platforms and knelt in the center, hands on his knees, just as he’d been taught more than thirty years ago. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, reaching for the Light.</p><p>For the first time in his life, meditation failed him.</p><p>Obi-wan didn’t reach for the Dark, however. Even in his disordered state, he actively shunned it. He did find himself suspended in a state of grey, feeling the Dark nipping at his heels and the Light just out of his reach. The only other Jedi he knew who might completely understand was Rael Averross, but he’d died a few years after Qui-gon.</p><p>How much more could he lose to the Sith? They had already taken Qui-gon, and now Satine and Korkie. What was next? How many others could he lose, and still seek the Light?</p><p><em>You can grieve her, Obi-wan... </em>Qui-gon’s voice - surely a construction of his memories - was as kind and gentle as it had been during his life. <em>Remember, feelings aren’t the enemy. It's how you act upon them that matters. You were allowed to grieve me, were you not? Trying to push this down and aside will only make it worse. </em></p><p>Obi-wan seemed to collapse on himself, and buried his face in his drawn-up knees. The grief he’d managed to hold at bay welled up, and he began to weep, great heaving, albeit silent, sobs that left wet patches on his trousers.</p><p>Satine was dead because he violated the Jedi code. <em>No attachments</em>.</p><p>The door chimed and Obi-wan hastily dried his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic. There was nothing he could do about their reddened and swollen appearance. He answered the door, expecting Yoda, but it was Anakin, eyes full of sympathy to match the somber expression on his face. ‘May I come in?’</p><p>‘Yes. Of course,’ Obi-wan muttered hoarsely. He stepped aside to let Anakin inside, then stumbled to the windows, gazing over the buildings of the capital, hands clasped tightly behind his back. Anakin came to stand beside him and laid a hand - his real one - on his shoulder. Obi-wan felt him struggle to find something appropriate to say, but failing, knowing there was nothing he could say. Anakin's feelings buffeted him with waves of compassion and heartfelt condolences. Anakin knew how it felt to lose someone he loved outside the bonds of the Jedi in a way the others would not.</p><p>‘Someone from Mandalore managed to send a message to the Council. They told us what happened to Satine...’. He gulped, but plowed ahead. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Master...’ The look Obi-wan gave him clearly said otherwise. Not only had the Sith spent years and months planning their nefarious schemes, they were flexible enough to change course when the pieces of the game took another path. Here he was, a man grown — a Jedi Master, no less — and he'd taken Maul's bait. Had he waited, had he <em>planned</em> a rescue, things might be different. No, it was all his fault. The joints of Anakin’s mechanical hand whirred softly as he clenched his fingers. 'It gets better,' Anakin said softly. 'Some days it barely aches at all. Some days it's like it happened yesterday. Never goes in a straight line. But it won't always feel like this…' He made a wide gesture with his hands. 'Gaping hole inside you.'</p><p>Obi-wan wrapped his arms tightly around himself, and tears trickled down his cheeks into his beard. He nodded, the weight of the locket heavy against his chest. 'Thank you, Anakin.'</p><p>'I suppose I should tell you to meditate, but you already know that.' Anakin rubbed the back of his neck. 'I, uh… I'm gonna go. Try to get some rest, Master.' He crossed to the door with his cat-like grace and left, leaving Obi-wan to his thoughts in the darkened room.</p><p>He felt her die. Not just the cessation of her breathing or heartbeat. He felt the Force trickle from her as she drew her last breath. He felt her sorrow at leaving him, leaving Korkie. Her deep and abiding love for them both.</p><p>He pressed his hand to the locket under his clothing. The Force existed in all living beings. Life created the Force, so living beings must return from whence they came. He consoled himself with the admittedly childish fancy that Satine had become part of the Light.</p><p>Obi-wan turned back to the platform and climbed onto it, settling into his customary meditation pose and reached for the Light.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Uuuuugggghhhhhh.</p><p>This storyline in The Clone Wars kills me.  </p><p>Just know that I am really sorry if I ruined your day...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Farewell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He can practically hear his ghosts chide him for this fleeting moment.</p><p>Y'know Master, that's what we like to call attachments, in Anakin's sardonic drawl.</p><p>The Jedi Code forbids attachments, my Padawan. For good reason. Qui-gon's gentle burr whispers in his mind.</p><p>Contemplate the future, you must. Gone, the past is. Yoda's voice drifts faintly in the back of his head.</p><p>Obi-wan snorts and settles against the rocks, finding his center, his balance as he descends into meditation. His daily act of remembrance isn't attachment. Not the sort of which the Jedi Code prohibited. He accepted their deaths as the natural order of things. He doesn't wallow in their loss, but finds a measure of contentment that they have returned to the Force.</p><p>It is the way of all living things.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a dream.</p><p>He knows it is.</p><p>For one, he's surrounded by the waterfalls in the high meadows of Alderaan. Quite unlike the arid sand dunes and rocks of the Jundland Wastes of his reality. The tall grass and clusters of wildflowers wave in the breeze. Soft sunlight warms rather than burns.</p><p>For another… Padmé lives and Anakin is… whole. And happy. Content with his place in the galaxy in a way he never was in life. Luke and Leia cavort on the shore of the stream, skipping stones with mere flicks of their fingers, leapfrogging over one another with impossibly nimble bounds. Games to reinforce their connection with the Force.</p><p>Ahsoka laughs at something and he follows her gaze to Korkie. She regales him with some of her more outlandish adventures as a Padawan. He responds with his childhood antics in Sundari. He's accepted the truth of his parentage with a remarkable amount of equanimity. He is a good lad, just as Satine said. Obi-wan didn't think he could be more proud of the boy, but he's everything Satine said and more.</p><p>And Satine… The breeze plays with her hair and tugs at the wrappings of the baby in her arms. She croons a lullaby to the child in lilting Mando'a, one he recognizes from his earliest lessons in the language. He cups the baby's head, covered with a thatch of reddish-gold, and leans down to press a gentle kiss to its brow.</p><p>It was the dream he and Satine had wistfully mentioned a time or two, in the gloaming of dawn, if their duties allowed.</p><p>Consciousness plucks at his sleeves. His mouth is suddenly dry as is customary when he first wakes on Tatooine. He frowns a little. <em>Not yet</em>, he begs. <em>Just a moment longer. </em></p><p>But it's no use. The eminent rising of Tatooine suns sends fingers of warmth through the chill of the night to caress his face. He sits up and flings the thin blanket aside, reaching for the cup next to his bed. He wondered why this particular dream always took place on Alderaan. Perhaps because it was as gracious as it was idyllic and as unlike Tatooine as possible. Thirst slaked for now, Obi-wan rises and sidles into the compact sonic shower cubicle. He can hardly remember the last time he showered with water. On the transport to Tatooine with the infant Luke. The cramped cabin had an equally small, albeit private, 'fresher. He'd been so terrified to leave the baby unattended in the cabin that he wedged Luke in his basket, on the floor between the shower cubicle and the sink. Once clean, he reaches for a set of clothes. He can't quite let the Jedi garb go, seeking comfort in their familiar contours. The clothes he brought with him have long since fallen to rags, but he's managed to fashion clothing that resembles those he used to wear. Besides, one day, Obi-wan will have to emerge from behind the façade of Ben. Luke will need training. Or Leia. He wants to look the part, even if he is a bit shabby around the edges. He runs little risk of being recognized as a Jedi here, as it is. Only two people have in nearly twenty years. One is long dead, and the other isn't telling anyone.</p><p>Obi-wan dresses in the grey light, the corners of his mouth tightening. He catches a glimpse of himself in the small mirror. His once-auburn hair and beard have gone white. The round cheeks of his youth have given way to the hollows of age. His knees hurt nearly all the time these days. He's stopped kneeling or sitting with his legs folded under him during his meditations. It was too much of a struggle to rise. He's found a niche in a rock formation just outside his hut that does nicely as a seat. One hand clenches into a fist. Not quite as tight as it used to be. And he doubted he could take anyone on in hand-to-hand combat anymore. The Force can’t completely make up for aging joints and slower reflexes.</p><p>He carefully wraps a scarf around the lower half of his face, then dons the flowing brown robes, pulling the hood over his head. Only his blue eyes are visible between the folds of the scarf and the edge of the hood. He respects the Sand People's customs and the Sand People leave him alone. After all, the Jundland Wastes is their home. He's only passing through. He spares a thought for A'Yark. Thanks to her, the Sand People give him a wide berth.</p><p>The first of Tatooine's two suns peers over the horizon when he settles into his rock. <span>His eyes close, and he can see Satine, standing in a corner of the dilapidated cottage on some world whose name he's long forgotten, the words of remembrance a liquid chant in the thin light of the dawn. It's a Mandalorian ritual. One she performed daily in memory of her parents. He can recall with vivid clarity the morning after he returned to Coruscant after she died, forcing his dry, gritty eyes open. The words rose in his throat before he could stop them. He hasn't missed a day in twenty years. </span></p><p><em>'<span>Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc. Ni partayli, gar darasuum.'</span></em> he murmurs. <em>I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.</em></p><p>
  <span>Then the names fall from his lips like leaves falling from a tree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First come the names of those he believed were dead. 'Cody… Rex…' His heart clenches a little. Not as close as brothers, but comrades all the same. Even if Cody and Rex somehow still lived, the Emperor had killed the men Obi-wan knew nearly twenty years ago when he turned the clones against the Jedi </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Ahsoka…' Impertinent, but oh, so compassionate. She loved with an open heart. Confident and assured. The members of the 501st he and Anakin had sent with Ahsoka to Mandalore never returned to Coruscant. Bail told him the Empire had found the wreckage of their Star Destroyer on some moon. She and everyone on board was assumed dead. If she was alive, he couldn’t sense her in the Force. There was too much conflict, too much pain, too much anger, too much hate, far too much suffering. It clouded everything, just as it had when the Republic fell under the thrall of the Dark side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath hitches with the next name. 'Korkie…' After Satine revealed he'd fathered the boy, she began to send messages, ostensibly the gushing of a proud aunt, but giving Obi-wan a chance to know their son as a person separate from the two of them. She was right. Korkie was his father's child. And so much his mother's son. He does not know if Korkie survived the fallout of the collapse of Satine's government or if he perished in the siege or the Great Purge of Mandalore. He doubts Korkie was allowed to survive, lest he lead an uprising in Satine's name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then come the names of the ones whose lives left their marks on his soul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Qui-gon.' His Master. A figure halfway between annoying elder brother and the closest thing Obi-wan knew of a father. His regard for rules ended where his sense of compassion and righteousness began. He took on a mischievous and rebellious youngling when no one else would. And still reminding Obi-wan he had much to learn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Padmé…' She liked being told "no" even less than Anakin. A fierce and determined soul with an endless capacity to love. In spite of everything it cost her, she still loved Anakin, even as she lay dying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Anakin…' His voice catches and the bitter tang of failure coats his tongue. Hid apprentice. His brother. Closer to Obi-wan than nearly anyone else in the galaxy. From wary child to brash and self-assured man. He felt everything so deeply. Every slight, every compliment. Always so impatient and eager to feel the wind under his wings. Anakin's emotional equilibrium rested first on his mother and Obi-wan, then Padmé, and finally Ahsoka. He’d survived the loss of his mother and could still find balance and remember the Light. Ahsoka walking away from the Order left him teetering on the edge of the Light and Dark. The possible loss of Padmé and Obi-wan’s rejection sent him tumbling into the Dark. Some nights his dreams are haunted by Anakin's — no, <em>Vader's</em> — malevolent yellow gaze. Obi-wan exhales, trying once again to release the guilt he feels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Satine,' he sighs. Likely the only person in the galaxy who ever saw man beneath the Jedi Knight. Who saw his faults and loved him for them as much as she loved the rest of him. Forty years later, the pain of walking away from her is as keen as ever. He once again ponders how the galaxy will remember her, if at all. Will she be remembered at an idealist who worked tirelessly to give her people a better life than one of constant conflict or a failed ruler of a failed state that collapsed under the weight of the zealotry of a minority? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter. As long as his heart beats, someone will remember Satine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In time, he will join them, and the memories of all of them will fade and they will become just another name in the history books. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can practically hear his ghosts chide him for this fleeting moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>Y'know Master, that's what we like to call attachments</em>, in Anakin's sardonic drawl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>The Jedi Code forbids attachments, my Padawan. For good reason</em>. Qui-gon's gentle burr whispers in his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>Contemplate the future, you must. Gone, the past is. </em>Yoda's voice drifts faintly in the back of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obi-wan snorts and settles against the rocks, finding his center, his balance as he descends into meditation. His daily act of remembrance isn't attachment. Not the sort of which the Jedi Code prohibited. He accepted their deaths as the natural order of things. He doesn't wallow in their loss, but finds a measure of contentment that they have returned to the Force. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is the way of all living things. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The shop in Mos Eisley is dark and cool after the blinding heat of day. He's sent Luke off to sell his speeder, with strict instructions not to haggle. They don't have time to waste. Not with stormtroopers crawling all over the city. He pushes his hood back and reaches behind his head, fingertips seeking the clasp of the chain he hasn't removed since Satine died. He doubts she would mind. It will find its way back to Mandalore.  Somehow.  Besides, they need the credits. The clasp opens easily and Obi-wan thumbs the pictures of Satine and Korkie from their slots and slips them into a pocket as he approaches the counter. The proprietor glances at him with evident skepticism when he slides the small locket across the counter. 'Doesn't look like much,' the grizzled man comments, as he sets a scanner on the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'It's beskar.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man holds the scanner over the locket. 'Damn if it's not… Pure beskar…' he breathes. 'This is rarer than water in the Jundlund Wastes. How'd you get this? Nobody but them crazy Mandalorians has it. Or the Empire.' He eyes Obi-wan with suspicion. 'You steal it? I don't fence stolen goods, mister.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'No…' Obi-wan runs a gentle fingertip over the Kryze family crest engraved on the surface. 'It was gift. Given to me by a lady I once knew on Mandalore.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man studies the delicate locket, then Obi-wan. 'They don't give it to just anyone.' He squints at the pocket where Obi-wan stashed the pictures. 'She your wife or something?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'You could say that,' Obi-wan replies with a wry smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Hm.' The man scratches the side of his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obi-wan makes a casual, almost negligent gesture. 'You will give me the full value of it.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'I will give you the full value of it,' the man repeats vaguely. He pulls a cashbox from under the counter and counts out more credits than Obi-wan had anticipated. It would be enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pockets the credits and strides from the shop, pausing to drop the pictures of Satine and Korkie into a fire roasting something on a spit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time to let them go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some of the things Obi-wan references here, like the two people who recognize he's a Jedi, are taken from the novel Kenobi by John Jackson Miller, which is sadly no longer canon, but it's a great read.  </p><p>Including Anakin in his remembrances aligns with his assertions that Anakin Skywalker died the moment Palpatine dubbed him Darth Vader.  </p><p>I also read somewhere recently that the reason the Light side of the Force was so clouded (and why Ahsoka and Obi-wan couldn't sense one another) was because there was so much pain and suffering in the galaxy.  So take that for what you will...</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I almost want to blame Dave Filoni for creating such interesting scenarios regarding Obi-wan and Satine.  He makes it almost too easy to write fic for them.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>